


The Lamentations of the Creation

by Raunchy_Robdelia



Series: The 3DS Trilogy [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Cults, Descent into Madness, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Kidnapping, Origins, Possession, Reincarnation, Sacrifice, Sadism, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-21 14:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11946036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raunchy_Robdelia/pseuds/Raunchy_Robdelia
Summary: After killing his creator, the Creation finds himself bored and desperatly seeking something to pass the time. That changes when a blue-skinned man named Jedah enters his home and asks him to befriend another dragon by the name of Duma. Millennia later, and the Creation is back with a thirst for human blood.





	1. From the Ashes of Rigel

Chapter One

From the Ashes of Rigel

* * *

The foul, repugnant stench of Duma’s caverns was sickening enough to drive any sane mortal running for the hills the very instant their nose caught a whiff of it.

Jedah, on the other hand, quite enjoyed the smell, considering he had grown up surrounded by poisonous swamps and gargoyles that likely did not understand the concept of soap. He rather liked being greeted every morning by the disgusting smell of toxic water that rushed through the spacious cavern and smelled like Mogall droppings.

This morning, in particular, was nothing special, as it consisted of Jedah sitting at a wooden table and reading the Rigelian Times while his daughter poured him a glass of tea.

“Here is your drink, father.” His pale-skinned daughter spoke while she floated above the ground. Jedah had sacrificed two of his three daughters to Duma and never regretted his decision. Having subservient, soulless children was more tolerable than teenage daughters, after all.

“Thank you, Marla.” Jedah smiled at his daughter while he took a sip of tea, but noticed that she looked rather perturbed.

“My name is Hestia…” Hestia floated away with a look of disgust while Jedah realized he had mistaken the two, and noticed that Marla was floating against the wall and staring at him in an unsettlingly way.

“Sorry, dear! It’s just very easy to confuse the two of you.” Jedah attempted to save face but realized his efforts were in vain as Hestia disappeared around the bend of the cavern. He resumed to read his paper and was granted only a few moments of tranquility before he heard a certain draconic god speak from behind him.

“Jedah…” Duma spoke in a whiney tone as he rhythmically tapped his green claw on the ground. Truth be told, Jedah wasn’t sure why Duma bothered to stay in that emerald-colored body of a dragon, considering the wear and damage it had sustained over the years.

“ _If I ignore him, he’ll stop asking…_ ” Jedah thought to himself as he continued to read the paper.

“Jedah!” Duma’s voice grew louder now. “Jedah Jedah Jedah Jed-” The ceiling of the cavern began to shake from the volume of his whining.

“Oh, for crying out loud! What is it that you need, Duma?” Jedah rolled his eyes, stood up, and turned around to face his god.

“I’m boooooored…” Duma sighed. It had been rather uneventful to hang out in a cave for a thousand years or so. “And hungry, but mostly bored.”

“Well, Hades can’t feed you because you frightened him last week,” Jedah said. Members of the Duma Faithful would take turns feeding Duma, but Hades had become so sickened by the way Duma consumed his Dagon Fillet that he and his two Dread Fighter cronies had relocated themselves to the farthest point in the cave away from Duma.

“I know, I know, it’s just…” Duma let out a drawn-out breath that warmed Jedah’s skin as it drifted by him. “There’s nothing to do here. Why can’t I leave this cave?”

“Lord Duma, please, this cavern is your safe haven. If the peasants outside were to see you in your currently beautiful, but equally frightening state, they would not react well.” Jedah spoke as Duma’s eye located in the center of the god’s head focused on him. “Do you have any suggestions of activities we could do within the safety of these catacombs?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to have a birthday party,” Duma said.

“A… A birthday party? How would we even go about creating a date of birth for a god?” Considering Duma was one of the Divine Dragons who had existed since the beginning of time, Jedah had every right to question how Duma would have a birthday.

“Well, we could say it was today,” Duma suggested.

“But we can’t just prepare a celebration in such a short time!” Jedah protested, then realized that as the head of the Duma Faithful, his best interest was Duma’s well-being, and he knew that Duma would enjoy this event greatly. “Fine. What is your birthday wish?”

“To meet another dragon.” Duma was always fascinated with the fact that he and Mila were not the only Divine Dragons, and had always wanted to see one ever since he was exiled from Archanea.

“I’ll contact Mila immediat-” Duma’s eyes glared at Jedah as he spoke.

“No. You know how uptight my sister is. She’ll probably take one look at this cave and leave due to the ‘rank decor’.” Duma had always loathed the presence of his sister and how she had to coddle humanity with every action she took.

“So then where exactly shall I find another dragon?” Jedah asked.

“I don’t know. We all came from Archanea, so try searching there.” Duma responded.

“There is no chance in hell that I am sailing across the sea just to find you a playmate.” Jedah folded his arms and glared at Duma, who lowered his massive head to meet Jedah’s eye level. “Don’t give me that look.” Jedah noticed that Duma was now giving him a sort of ‘puppy-dog’ stare.

“Please? It’ll be the best birthday gift ever…” Duma’s eyes looked less like a giant winged reptile and more like a pleading child.

“Oh, fine…” Jedah rolled his eyes then began to walk away from Duma. “Your birthday party shall have to be delayed until I return, but I shall try to avoid coming back empty-handed.” He strode towards the exit of the caves while Duma beamed with delight.

 

After a strenuous and boring voyage across the sea between Rigel and Archanea, Jedah had landed on the continent that had been Duma and Mila’s home before they were forced out.

Upon stepping onto Archaean soil, Jedah was surprised at how cold the port town of Furia was. Regardless, after ‘interrogating’ a few of the locals with his magic, Jedah had been informed about the labyrinth of Thabes, where foul noises and infernal shrieks echoed out of the entrance. Surely, a dragon had to be found in that treacherous maze.

As Jedah stood in the crumbling, sand-coated halls of the labyrinth, he noticed that he rather admired the sense of dread this place gave off. Sure, it was covered with sand, which was coarse, rough, irritating, and got everywhere, but the actual materials that were used to construct Thabes looked rather nice.

But he did not have time to sightsee. He had a job to do. As such, he created a small ball of flame that circled his head and pierced through the darkness, then pulled a turnwheel out of his cloak.

This was now ordinary wheel though. This was Duma’s Turnwheel, and unlike Mila’s Turnwheel, which allowed the user to go backward in time, Duma’s Turnwheel allowed the user to go forward in time.

Jedah spun the hand of the wheel forward, and multiple glowing holes emerged before him. Each portal acted as a window to the future, and if he were to step into one, he would be there. Due to the nature of creating the future, and how one small difference in what Jedah did could create a new future, there were multiple choices of the future.

One future depicted him taking a right turn and getting sliced into pieces by a squad of Dread Fighters. Another showed him jumping off a short cliff and landing on his head, and a final future showed him running from all conflict and standing before an ornate set of doors.

Considering he did _not_ want to get killed in this god-forsaken labyrinth, Jedah stepped into the portal and found himself before the same pair of double doors. A Symbol of six eyes was engraved on the door, and Jedah pushed the doors open to reveal a dimly-lit circular room that had a raised platform in the center. Torches lined the side of the platform, and the same symbol of six eyes from the door was drawn on the floor with a scarlet material

Above the raised platform was some sort of… winged thing furled up and hanging upside down from the ceiling as though it were a bat. Its feathered wings were furled around its body, most likely in an attempt to retain heat.

If this thing were a bat, then it was a rather massive one. It easily dwarfed Jedah in size and looked to be about the same size of Duma.

“Now what do we have here…” Jedah whispered to himself as he continued to inspect this creature until it began to stir.

Its wings unfurled to reveal that there were six of them, and it flapped them to keep itself afloat as it descended from the ceiling. It had a long, purple body that had a noticeable lack of legs, and a horned head that was adorned with six red eyes that were focused only on Jedah.

Jedah’s heart skipped a beat when he realized he had actually found a dragon.

“YOU DARE BRING LIGHT TO MY LAIR? YOU MUST _DIE_!” The dragon unleashed an ear-splitting roar and shouted at Jedah. “I AM THE WINGS OF DESPAIR! I AM THE BREATH OF RUIN! I AM THE CREA-” The dragon’s eyes widened and it began to cough. Gigantic wads of spit flew out of its mouth and pelted the floor. “SORRY. SLEEPING FOR THE LAST FEW DAYS DOES THAT TO ME.”

“You do not have to yell,” Jedah spoke while he covered his ears, which were ringing.

“WAIT. YOU CAN UNDE-” The dragon took a second to process what this strange blue man had said and then continued to speak. “You can understand me?”

“Yes.” Jedah took his hands off his ears and stared the purple dragon directly in its eyes. “You dragons have a language that you default to, and I have spent enough time working with one to understand that tongue.”

“Wait, you know a dragon?” The dragon’s head reared back and gained a look of curiosity. “I thought I was the only one who existed! Tell me more about them, please!”

“Before I deluge more of my information, I must know who you are and why you’re sitting at the bottom of this deserted labyrinth,” Jedah spoke.

“My name is… uh…” It paused, as it remembered it hadn’t been given a name by its creator. “My creator, Forneus, referred to me as the Creation. He was a weak old man who tried to use me, so I killed him.”

“Y-you were created? By a mortal?” This baffled Jedah as it was unheard of for a mortal to _create_ a divine dragon.

“Yeah. He made me by taking a necrodragon and infusing it with the blood of a divine dragon. He also figured out how to raise the dead by placing masks on them. Like that one.” The Creation spoke, then pointed to his left using his wing where a glowing symbol was sketched on the floor. A bright flash ensued, and then Jedah found himself staring at a Cantor that wore a large stone mask. The undead wizard just stood there, quietly groaning until it suddenly disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Okay, that’s my life story. Yours?”

“I am Jedah, head of the Duma Faithful. I serve the God of Rigel, Duma, and I was tasked to find another dragon for him to interact with.” Jedah fumbled with his turnwheel and began to spin it. So far, this dragon seemed to fit the bill for what Duma was looking for. “Would you be willing to come with me and meet Duma?”

“I mean, I don’t have anything else to do besides stick around in this dank maze, so sure.” The Creation watched as Jedah pulled an ornate wheel out of his cloak and summoned a massive, golden hole on the wall that shone through the darkness. “This isn’t a trap, right?”

“Certainly not. I would never harm a member of your race unless their actions deemed it.” Jedah spoke then motioned for the Creation to follow him as he stood before the portal into the future, where he had the Creation blast a hole in the ceiling and fly across the sea to Rigel with Jedah on his back. The Creation flew into the portal, and Jedah followed.

 

It had been a few days since Jedah had left, and Duma was starting to lose hope that he would come back. It had been excruciatingly boring to sit around all day and hope that a friend was coming, and his guards weren’t known for having interesting conversations.

That sense of boredom was cured immediately when a massive glowing hole flashed on the wall to Duma’s right, and a purple dragon about the same size as him emerged. This dragon had six wings that kept it afloat, golden fins along its neck, and sharp horns that looked as though they were designed for the sole purpose of piercing flesh.

As the Creation emerged out of the portal, he was greeted with the sight of a green dragon that had all the traits of a normal winged lizard, save for the large eye in his forehead.

Jedah watched as the two dragons stared at each other with blank faces, then figured he should step in.

“Duma, this is the Creation. He’s a divine dragon created in a labyrinth. Creation, this is Duma, god of Rigel.” Duma’s eyes lit up the instant Jedah finished speaking.

“You were created?! That’s so awe-inspiring!” Duma slowly walked towards the Creation and raised his left claw up. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The Creation assumed that he wanted to shake hands, but remembered that he didn’t have a talon to shake Duma’s claw with.

“The pleasure is all mine.” The Creation lowered his head and felt Duma’s talons grip around one of his horns. He slowly shook his head up and down as though this were a handshake until Duma removed the Creation’s horn from his grip. “This is a pretty nice cavern you have here. Only real suggestion I have is putting a pile of skulls over there.”  The Creation used one of his wings to point towards an empty corner.

“You know, I was thinking the same thing.” Normally, Duma would be annoyed if some stranger came in and offered him suggestions on interior decoration, but this was a dragon, not some filthy commoner. “So what are you into?”

“I uh… I don’t really know…” The Creation didn’t really know _what_ he was into, seeing as he had been stuck in a labyrinth for his entire life until now. “My creator talked about using me to control humanity, so I guess that’s a start.”

“Okay, are we the same person or something?” Duma laughed to himself as he cracked a smile. Jedah smiled too; this was the happiest Duma had been in a long while. “I _also_ love subjugating humans!”

Duma thought for a bit and realized that ‘The Creation’ wasn’t that intimidating of a name. “You know what you could use? A title.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of changing my name into something dark and brooding. I just don’t know where to start.” The Creation remembered the many hours he would spend trying to think of a name. At one point, he thought of ‘Robin the Destructive Dragon’, but then figured that Robin was a stupid name.

“So, for example, all of the dragons I know have names that end with an a. Like Naga, Mila, and myself, Duma.” Duma spoke.

“So what word should I add an a to?” The Creation asked.

“We could do something like how I did my name. I just took the word doom, added an a to it, and then spelled it in an odd manner.” After Duma spoke, the eye in the center of his head floated out of its place and began to glow as it hung in the air. An orange beam of light shone out of the eye, and he pointed the beam towards a wall. He moved the beam in all manner of directions for a bit until he no longer emitted light from it, then his floating eye lowered back into his skull.

The Creation inspected the wall that Duma had shone a beam on and discovered that his ocular beam was bright enough to burn a mark onto the wall. In fact, Duma had spelled out his name on the wall using the beam and even made a plus sign underneath his name. “Okay, your turn. Write your name on the wall.” Duma instructed.

“I see.” The Creation had decided on a name, then opened his jaws. Purple flames began to form in his open mouth, and a pillar of fire emerged from his mouth and blasted the wall with it to spell his new name out underneath Duma’s.

“G… r… i… m… a…” Duma narrated the letters that the Creation was inscribing onto the wall. He watched as the Creation’s flame breath died down, and he was left panting from exhaustion. “Grima, correct?”

“Y-yes…” From this point on, he was no longer the Creation. Now, he was Grima. A dragon who belonged to no one, and could carve out his own destiny.

“Pretty ominous nickname. Now we just need a title for you. Instead of something like ‘Divine Dragon’, how about we give you a darker title.” Duma took a few steps back to give Grima space while he recuperated.

“How about ‘Fell Dragon’?” Grima asked as he regained his composure. “That’s cool, right?”

“You are just nailing it with these names today!” Duma spoke with excitement in his tone. “I really like having you around. Wanna be friends?”

“I thought we already were friends,” Grima stated. He enjoyed the presence of this other dragon, and it was a nice change of pace from spending an eternity of solitude.

While Jedah watched with glee as Duma had the time of his life, he felt a smooth, yet cold hand poke his shoulder. He turned around to see Nuibaba, the arcanist who had recently joined the Duma Faithful yet had been a loyal servant since she came on board.

“Why is there a purple dragon floating around our lord?” She asked.

“That is Duma’s new ‘playmate.’ ” Jedah made air-quotes with his fingers. “Duma requested to meet another dragon, so I found this one in a derelict maze in Archanea.”

“Hey, Jedah!” Duma yelled as he looked to his caretaker. “We should get the party started soon!”

“Yes, yes. Just give me some time.” Jedah looked at Grima, who just floated there idly flapping his wings. “Grima, would you be so kind to help us decorate this cave?”

“Oh, uh… Sure…” Grima didn’t like the idea of manual labor, but he also didn’t want to be thrown out of this cave.

A few minutes passed while Jedah instructed the various members of the Duma Faithful to decorate the living space of Duma. Grima had been assigned to hang multi-colored streamers between the walls of the cave. He did this by having a Gold Knight named Hades toss the decorations into the air, where Grima caught them with his mouth and hung them.

“Okay, this is the last one. Ready?” Hades asked as he held the balled-up party streamer in his hands. Grima floated above him.

“Ready!” Grima looked down onto the blue-skinned man. He had done this task for a short while now, so he felt that he had the hang of it.

Hades tossed one end of the streamers up into the air, where Grima snatched it up with his jaws. He floated up with the rest of the streamer dangling from his mouth, where he tied it around one of the stalactites that protruded out of the ceiling of the caves.

What Grima didn’t know was that Hades forgot to let go of his end of the decorations.

“Help! Dear Duma, please help me!” Hades fought the urge to look down as he dangled above the ground from the streamer, but succumbed to the urges and promptly realized that if he were to fall, it would be fatal.

“Don’t worry, I’ll save you!” Grima floated down until he was at the same elevation as Hades, then opened his jaws. “I’ll carry you in my mouth. I _promise_ that I will not eat you.”

“Y-you sure?” Hades looked to Grima’s six eyes with a terrified look of distress. He never trusted giant reptiles, but now seemed like a good time to start believing them when they swore to save his life.

“You have my word.” Grima flew to the area behind Hades, then slowly moved his head closer to the armored man. He opened his jaws, and Hades felt his heart tremble when he saw Grima’s mouth emerge from the top and bottom of his field of vision.

Grima closed his mouth when he made sure that Hades was covered by his jaws, and indeed felt the Gold Knight squirm inside his mouth. His jaws were only slightly larger than the man, though, so it was a rather snug fit.

Grima floated back down to the ground of the caves and spat his mouth, where Hades flew out and landed on the ground in a spit-covered heap. Said spit was a sickening shade of purple.

“I’m… I’m alive?” Hades slowly got to his feet and looked to his slimy hands. He then planted his face to the stone floor and began to feverishly kiss it. “I’m alive!” He turned around and looked up to Grima with a look of pure joy. “Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!”

“You’re… You’re welcome.” It felt rather odd to save a life, but Grima slightly enjoyed the pleasing feeling of satisfaction it gave him.

Cerberus, and his brother Cerberus, had both watched the unfolding events, and it seemed their boss had not noticed that his armor was now a different shade of color.

“Hey, boss. Your armor’s… You’re purple now.” Cerberus spoke in a cold voice as Hades looked to his arm-guards. They were indeed stained purple instead of the normal gold attire of the Gold Knights.

“Oh, uh… I think my saliva stained your armor.” Grima nervously glanced to the side but noticed that Hades look pleased.

“I always hated the color gold. Thanks for the new pigment.” He gave a thumbs up to Grima then continued to speak. “You should tell Jedah the decorations are ready.”

After Grima reported back that everything was in place, Jedah had gathered all of the members of the Duma Faithful to the main chamber of the cave, where Duma sat before a birthday cake with a candle in it.

“For he's a jolly good war god, for he's a jolly good war god. For he's a jolly good war gooooood, which nobody can deny!” The Duma Faithful (and Grima) sang while Duma grinned from horn-to-horn.

“Thanks, guys. This is the best birthday ever!” Duma looked down at the birthday cake before him, which was elevated by a raised platform. He lowered his head and swallowed the cake whole as Jedah and the other members clapped.

“Now, Lord Duma, what is your birthday wish?” Jedah raised his eyebrow while he asked. Duma began to ponder what he should wish for, but all he could think about was the conversations he had made with Grima.

“My wish is… That Grima gets to stay with us in the caves!” As Duma spoke, every member of the Duma Faithful gathered around him gasped in surprise. Grima’s eyes nervously darted back and forth. He didn’t want to appear needy, but he did like the idea of staying with Duma.

“But… Sire, we’re already running out of room to have your servants rest. A large dragon like him wouldn’t be able to fi-” Jedah was interrupted by Duma flashing him an angry stare while the eyeball in his forehead started to glow.

“You asked for my wish, and I gave it to you. He can sleep here in the main chamber.” Duma used his claw to point at the center of the circular sigil on the floor.

“If it’s any consolation, I can just sleep from the ceiling.” Grima butted in, much to Jedah’s annoyance.

“Grima’s staying, and that’s final.” Jedah backed off while Duma’s eye lost its glow.

“As you desire.” Jedah held up his hands in surrender as he walked away.

“Well, I feel exhausted.” Duma’s eyes drooped as he began to turn around in a circular motion, then curled up on the floor like a dog. “Goodnight. Don’t let the Mogalls bite.” Duma watched with droopy eyes as Grima floated up to the ceiling of the cavern, and attached his tail to it so he could hang upside-down like a bat. “No, seriously. Those little monsters hurt.”

 

The very next afternoon, Duma spent the afternoon chatting with Grima.

“I always hated how my sister coddled her people and tended to their every whim,” Duma spoke as Grima floated before him.

“How would you treat humanity then?” Grima asked.

“They need to experience crushing lows so they can appreciate the joyous times. If they have to starve so they can be overjoyed at tomorrow's bountiful harvest, then so be it.”

“I can see that. I don’t think they should be coddled either, and hardship builds character.” Grima thought he should mention that too much hardship could turn a person cold and distant, but didn’t want to damage his friendship with Duma. “They should still worship us at the end of the day.”

“Exactly. We are gods to them, so we should be treated as such. The people of Rigel worship me, and the foolish Zofians worship Mila.” The way Duma pronounced the name of his sister sounded as though he was choking the words out.

“So if Mila is your sister, then why do you detest her so?” Grima tilted his head slightly to the side while he asked.

“I don’t… detest her. It’s just that we disagree over how to treat humanity. When I was exiled from Archanea, she followed me out of our bond as siblings, but when we arrived on this continent, we began to argue. This turned into a rather bloody conflict, and we struck a pact.” Duma continued to speak. “The bottom half of this land shall be Zofia, which worships Mila. The upper half became Rigel, which is devoted to me. I can’t hate her because she gave up her life for me, but at the very least I can disagree with her.”

“That’s understandable. Hopefully you two can make up and come to an agreement.” Grima suggested.

“I doubt it, but who knows what the future will bring.” After Duma finished his spiel, he realized he hadn’t seen Jedah at all today. “Could you do me a favor and check on Jedah?”

“Alright.” Grima began to slowly fly around the bend of the cave, which looked as dank and depressing as it did yesterday until he saw the blue-skinned man standing at a corner. He looked to be gathering object from a wooden crate. “Hey, uh, Jedah…”

“Yes, Grima? What is it?” Jedah sighed as he turned around and looked up to see the purple dragon floating above the ground. It’s not that he disliked Grima, it’s just that it felt odd to have two dragons in Duma’s sacred home.

“Duma just wanted me to check in on what you’re doing, is all,” Grima spoke as Jedah turned back around, and discovered that he was lifting slabs of meat out of a crate and tossing them onto a cart. “Is that food for him?”

“Yes. He normally eats a herd of cows for lunch and a whole pigsty for dinner.” Jedah pointed to another crate that was behind the one he just emptied, which had a large p drawn on it with ink.

“You really care for him, huh.” Grima smiled as Jedah rolled his eyes.

“As head of the Duma Faithful, that is indeed my job.” Jedah took the empty crate and tossed it aside to a pile where more emptied containers towered in a pile that almost reached the height of Grima’s elevation.

“Well I mean, you look like you enjoy your work. I think Duma knows how much you enjoy it too.” Grima noticed that now Jedah was smiling, which looked rather odd given his complexion.

“I live to serve, I suppose.” Jedah laughed to himself. “Thank you for the compliments, Grima.”

“You’re a good man, Jedah. I hope to get my own weirdly-colored manservant one day.” Grima laughed, then noticed that Jedah was now pushing a cart loaded with cow meat. “Do you want me to tell Duma that his food is on the way?”

“I would greatly appreciate that. Thank you.” Jedah struggled to push the cart -which he suspected weighed more than one of Duma’s hands- but eventually got it moving.

As Grima floated back to Duma’s chamber, he looked to his green dragon friend before something else caught his attention. It was a woman with blue skin and a purple dress who sort of… floated slightly above the ground. All of his six eyes were focused on her, and only her, which Duma noticed with a sly grin.

“Excuse me, Marla? Can you give Grima and I a moment alone please?” Duma spoke in a gentle voice as Marla turned around to face him.

“As you wish, Lord Duma.” Marla promptly teleported out of view, and Duma made absolutely sure that she was indeed out of view by checking his sides.

“So Jedah’s bringing the food cart arou-” Before Grima could finish, Duma cut in.

“You like her, don’t you?” Duma was grinning like a madman while Grima tossed a glare at him.

“No! I am above such petty feelings.” Duma swore that if Grima had cheeks, they would be flush with pink.

“Your denial only makes it more obvious.” Duma continued to press Grima for the truth.

Grima couldn’t even formulate a response because he was too preoccupied with thinking about that Marla woman. He could only focus on her smooth, yet firm hands that looked like they could lull him into slumber just by their smooth touch. Her elegant figure that indicated she was a woman of class. Her resplendent beaut-

“Okay, okay! I maybe, sorta, kinda like her…” Grima’s six eyes were shifting away from Duma and to the spaces next to him. He found the entire idea of a dragon having a romantic relationship with a human to be very odd.

“Well, then we’re gonna set you up with her.” Duma smiled with innocent glee as he tapped his claw on the ground. “Marla! Marla Marla Marla Mar-”

“Wait, no no no no no!” Grima desperately pleaded for Duma to stop, but his efforts were in vain as Marla teleported into the chamber.

“Yes, Lord Duma?” Marla tilted her head to the side in an incredibly adorable manner, while Grima nervously glanced at the stone floor.

“My friend Grima here was wondering if he could invite you to dinner on this lovely evening.” Duma used his claw to point to Grima, who attempted to nervously back away into the dark recesses of the cave.

“If my Lord wills it, then so be it.” Marla turned around to face Grima with her beautiful soulless voids that she called eyes. “Hello, Grima.”

“H-Hi…” Grima gulped his breath as he stopped backing away, while Duma flashed him the closest to a ‘thumbs-up’ he could do with his draconic claws.

“Jedah! We’re gonna need a table, some chairs, and an assortment of nice-smelling candles!” Duma called out, then was answered by the groaning noises that echoed from deeper inside the cave.

“As you wish!” Jedah spoke with a half-hearted tone that indicated he really didn’t want to grab furniture and scented candles.

“I shall meet you for dinner in five hours.” Marla smiled as she teleported away, again.

“S-see you then…” Grima began to uncontrollably cough as he glared at Duma. “I honestly can’t believe you right now.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out.” Duma raised both of his hands and made a shrugging gesture.

 

About five hours passed, and Grima floated before a small wooden table that Marla sat at the opposite side of. The table was placed in the center of Duma’s chamber in the cavern, and Jedah had used illusion magic to make the only light source be the golden candelabra placed in the center of the table.

“Your food, sir and madam.” Jedah -who wore a suit and looked absolutely miserable- approached the table with multiple platters in his hand. He placed them on the table then removed the metallic lids from them.

Marla’s food consisted of a small salad and a glass of water. Grima’s food, on the other hand, was a whole steamed pig, a couple steaks in a pile, and a few tubs of water.

“Thank you, father.” Marla watched as her father disappeared into the darkness of the cave, seemingly leaving her along with Grima. She looked up to the dragon, whose uncomfortableness was as obvious as the horns on his head. “So you were created by a mortal?”

“Y-yes ma’am.” Grima was practically shaking with fear while Marla took a bite out of her salad. He had no idea how to even go about seducing her, considering Duma had effectively thrown him into the vast, deadly ocean known as romance, and left him stranded without a life-preserver.

Marla, however, thought his nervousness was quite cute and reminded her of a flustered schoolboy trying to declare their admiration.

“Who was your creator?” Marla asked as she raised her eyebrow.

“He was uh…” Grima figured that he had nothing to lose at this point, so he figured he should stop being a coward and take life by the figurative horns. “He was a weak-minded fool who sought to use me as a means to an end, rather than a living being.”

“Oh, my. That sounds dreadful…” Marla watched with curiosity as Grima swallowed his entire steamed pig whole. She couldn’t imagine how tormented this poor soul felt, never having someone admire them or even worship them like Duma and his religious cult that she belonged to.

“It was decent. He fed me corpses for a while so I could grow, and after he gave his blood to me, I could discover his weakness.” Grima finished chewing and continued to speak. “He was so busy carving a stone tablet outside my room that he didn’t notice when I had a masked servant bludgeon him over the head with a rusty axe.”

“At the very least, vengeance was yours.” Marla finished her salad and began to drink her glass of water as she watched Grima gobble down the rest of his food.

“Well, yes, in a sense. But I got no satisfaction from watching him perish. There was still a rather empty feeling in my… my soul, I guess.” Grima looked to the side and noticed that Duma was now asleep. He found it rather rude that his supposed ‘wingman’ was now slacking on the job.

“Do you still feel empty?” Marla turned her head to the side as she looked to Grima’s empty plate of food.

“I guess.” Grima let out a long sigh. “But enough about my boring life. What about you?” He then focused his six eyes on Marla; he didn’t want to only talk about himself, after all.

“My life up until now has been rather simple, I suppose. My father, Jedah, left my sisters, Hestia, Sonya and myself, at a priory until we were around the ripe age of eighteen when he sacrificed our souls to Lord Duma so that we may become witches.”

Marla leaned back in her seat and waited. She concluded that this conversation could go in two directions. One where Grima asked a second question, which showed that he paid attention or another where Grima just nodded his head and stated how awful it must be to have your soul ripped out of your body.

“How did that make you feel? You know, to have been left by your father only to have him show up and sacrifice you to Duma?” Grima watched as Marla looked back with shock in her eyes and sat upright in her chair.

It turned out that even draconic abominations of nature understood how to court a maiden. But what shocked Marla was that nobody had ever asked her how _she_ feels. Nobody ever asked if she wanted to have her soul ripped from her being. Even her father acted as though her cares were nonexistent, and it took her now to realize that she _wanted_ people to notice her.

“It… I-it made me feel… angry?” Marla had to struggle to get the words out of her mouth. “It made me feel… frustrated. I was frustrated that my father abandoned us and that he only returned just to use us to further his goals.” There was something… cathartic about complaining to another soul, and it proved to be the relief that Marla didn’t know she wanted, but desperately needed.

“Sort of like how my creator only used me as a tool.” Grima figured that the best way to help someone feel better was to sympathize with them. “I understand how much of a personal hell that is, and I’m sorry it had to happen to you.”

Silence followed suit, then a quiet whimper pierced through the calm like a ringing bell. Grima searched around the dark area of the cavern to locate the source of the crying until he determined that the origin was staring him directly in the face.

“G-grima… Could you please lower your head for a moment?” Marla’s tears were ink-black as they streaked down her face while she got out of her chair and stood before him. Grima did as she asked and lowered his head, then was greeted by Marla slowly wrapping her arms around his upper lip in a hug of sorts. “T-thank you. No one has ever asked about my feelings before...”

“Are you going to be alright?” Grima attempted to speak without moving his mouth, which resulted in his voice being muffled.

“I-i’ll be fine.” Marla pressed her head to Grima’s and continued to sob. Even though his skin was frigid to the touch, she couldn’t remove her hands from it. His skin just felt too pleasing, and she was in severe need of someone to hold her. In fact, she felt so exhausted that she just wanted to rest immediately “I-I just need to lie down for a bit.”

“That’s alright. If you need me to find someone to help you sleep then I would be happy to oblig-” Grima couldn’t help but notice that Marla was blushing as he was cut off mid-sentence.

“Actually, I was wondering if… I was wondering…” Marla choked the words out as she stared directly into Grima’s six red eyes. She felt something raw, something new, something…

Something human. A strange new feeling that a witch should not be feeling was burning inside her core.

Affection.

“I was wondering if you would sleep with me.” Marla finally spit her words out and immediately regret it. The look of pure fear in Grima’s eyes was incredibly obvious, and the following silence only prolonged the feeling of dread in her gut.

Grima was now presented with a woman who had caught his eyes asking to lay with him, and took the appropriate response.

“I w-would be happy to help you sleep.” He slowly pulled his head away from Marla, who looked back up at him with a sense of longing. “I must warn you that I am unable to sleep on the ground.”

“Unable or just unwilling?” Marla raised her eyebrow as Grima nervously glanced from side to side. Sure, he lacked legs, but maybe he could curl up on the floor like a sleeping hound.

“Okay, I’ll try.” Grima began to descend in his elevation until his underbelly was practically touching the floor. Beads of sweat trickled down his brow while his wings began to flap faster and faster. What if he were to die the instant he touched the floor? What if he could never get back into the air and was reduced to a literal sitting target? What if-

His cares melted away the instant he noticed the reassuring look that Marla was giving him, and he quickly settled himself on the stone floor of the cavern without a second thought. The jagged and cold sensation that tickled his stomach felt odd as he laid out like a stretching cat.

“Thank you for humoring me.” Marla smiled as she sat down and quickly kissed Grima on his upper jaw. She then adjusted the bun that kept her hair up and Grima discovered that her hair was long enough to reach her legs.

It was at that point Grima decided that he might have a thing for women with long hair.

As Marla began to snore, Grima realized that he had done it; he had gotten the girl. The question that remained now was whether or not Jedah was going to kill him to protect his daughter.

But those were problems that would arise on the morrow. For now, Grima took an immeasurable amount of pleasure from the warm, fuzzy feeling that Marla’s embrace gave him.

 

Grima and Marla awoke to the infernal sound of what they presumed to be a sword scratching a rusted whetstone and quickly got up and floated above the air.

It had not been an object that made the noise, but rather a person. Duma, to be specific, was curled up in a ball and howling in pain.

“Make it stop! Make. It. Stop!” Duma’s orange eye was now flashing rapidly as though it were in distress while he screamed. Jedah stood before him with his arms outstretched.

“Duma, what is wrong?” The devotion and care in Jedah’s voice was as apparent as the stars in the night sky.

“Voices! Voices telling me to kill! Voices that won’t stop!” Duma clutched his head with his claws while he shook.

“You’re starting to degenerate. You need to separate your mind from your body or else you will become a mindless beast.” Jedah had known that all dragons were doomed to fall into the madness known as degeneration, but had prayed that Duma could avoid the pain it brings.

“O-okay!” Duma got to his hands and feet, which were trembling along with the rest of his body, and began to close his two eyes. The orange eye in his forehead glowed with even more intensity than before, and it suddenly rose out of his forehead.

Duma alway had the ability to separate his spirit, represented by his eye, from his body, but he had never planned on doing it permanently. But if it held the degeneration back, then it was a price he was willing to pay.

“There. Are you feeling well?” Jedah asked.

“I will be fine.” Duma’s voice echoed around the room while Grima noticed that his draconic, green body was now laying on the ground like a corpse. “But we both know the degeneration will continue. We need to find the Brand Bearers.”

“Brand Bearers?” Grima asked while Duma’s floating eye turned to face him. Marla quickly whispered to him while he lowered his head to meet her eye-level.

“Prophecies speak of two children destined to slay Mila and Duma then go on to unite the continent. If Duma is able to absorb the soul of the children, he will reach nigh-infinite power and be immune to degeneration.” Marla spoke to him then kissed on the head. “Thank you for last night, by the way.”

“Ah, I see,” Grima spoke before pulling his head away. “Thank you as well.”

“I shall contact our network of spies and begin to search for them,” Jedah reassured Duma and began to walk away. Marla and Grima both turned their heads to watch as Jedah disappeared into the dark tunnels of the cave, then began to question if anyone noticed that they were a couple now.

“Hey, Grima! Congratulations on getting with Marla!” Duma spoke with joy in his voice as they both turned to face the floating eye.

“Thank you, Lord Duma.” Marla smiled then looked to Grima, eager to start her day with him at her side.

Hopefully, things would work out well and Duma would be back in action before the year ended.

 

To say the last six months had gone well for Duma and his followers would be an overstatement at best, and at worst would be a sarcastic insult.

On one hand, Mila had been sealed inside the Falchion given to Duma by Naga, and was now dead. Even Grima and Marla were both inseparable and both looked the happiest they had ever been.

But on the other, Jedah had located the Brand Bearers, which were two bothersome young adults by the name of Alm and Celica, but they had eluded his grasp at every turn. Alm had brought Rigel to its knees, killed Rudolf, and was on a warpath towards killing Duma. Celica had proven to be very, very gullible and was tricked by Jedah into sacrificing her soul, only Alm had somehow gotten her soul back, and now they were waiting outside his cavern with an army.

What troubled Duma the most was that Alm now had the Falchion, which was fatal to dragons such as himself and Grima. If Alm were to get in here and kill Grima, then…

Duma didn’t even want to think about that outcome and glanced to Grima, whose eyes were burning with a feverish intensity.

All Grima knew was that there was an army gathering outside the front entrance to Duma’s cavern and that he would be damned if they were going to lay a finger on his friends. Supposedly, this small group was lead by a bothersome ‘Alm’, who Grima had been wanting to eliminate after hearing about the trouble he had caused to Duma.

“Don’t worry, Duma. I’ll crush these bastards.” Grima gave a reassuring look to Duma.

“No, Grima, you have to listen to me.” Duma’s floating eye stared directly at him. “They have the Falchion. They can kill you and me, and I doubt they would hesitate to.”

“So? The fear of death only makes me fight with more strength.” Even in his voice, Duma could hear the foolishness of youth that flowed within Grima. It was that very same youth that Duma wanted to preserve.

“Grima, I could never forgive myself if something happened to you. You’re family to me, and family looks out for each other.” Duma quickly turned his focus to Jedah, who had summoned a swarm of Mogalls around him. “Jedah, prepare the turnwheel.”

“A great idea, Lord. We can smuggle you out of the caves and-” Jedah grabbed the ornate wheel from his cloak and began to spin it forward.

“No. It is my destiny to do battle here. Win or lose, the future of this continent shall be shaped by this battle.” Duma looked to Grima, and he could tell that Grima knew where this was going. “See to it that Grima is relocated to safety. I’d rather end myself than see harm befall him.”

“As you wish, Duma.” Jedah could feel the tension in the air as he summoned a massive golden portal in the wall next to Grima.

“I’m not leaving.” Grima stared Duma directly in his eye. “There is no way in hell that I’m leaving you to die.”

“If I die today, then that is my destiny! There is no way in hell that I am letting you die, not when you have your whole life ahead of you!” Duma shouted while Grima backed up. “Think about this. You could either charge headfirst into suicide or live to fight another day.”

“B-but… I won’t be with any of you…” Grima’s eyes shifted around while tears ran down his lower lip.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Grima. If it were up to me we would’ve ruled the world like kings, but I see fate had other plans for me.” Duma noticed that Marla was watching from afar. “Marla, do you wish to go with Grima?”

Marla had loved Grima with all of her heart in the last six months, but now her heart was telling her to do something other than running.

“My place is at your side, Duma,” Marla spoke with weepy eyes as she floated towards Grima, who lowered his head to meet his eye level. “I’ll miss you most of all, Grima.”

Grima had to choke the words out of his mouth.

“G-goodbye, Marla…” He spoke as Marla wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him.

Grima turned around and faced the portal. Before he left, he gave one final look to Duma. “Goodbye, Duma.”

Grima steered himself through the portal, and he emerged back in his home underneath Thabes. It was almost as if the last six months had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

There was nothing in this abode of use to him.

There was no Duma to talk to and be around to make the days feel shorter and shorter.

There was no Marla to console him and love him with all of her heart.

There was no cultist members who knew his name and treated him like family.

The only thing in the abode was a large dragon, who curled up on the floor and began to cry.

 

Some time passed while Grima was alone in the labyrinth. All he could think about was Duma and Marla, and how they had probably been slaughtered by this Alm.

His thoughts were interrupted when the doors to his chambers creaked open, which caught his attention. He flew down from the ceiling and waited above the central platform of his room.

“ _This must be Jedah, here to bring me back to Duma!_ ” Grima could only hope for the best and was greeted by the worst.

A boy with green hair and blue armor stepped onto the platform. Nine more people followed behind him, including a girl with red hair.

“Alm, what is that thing?” Celica asked as she tightened her grip on her sword.

“ _ Alm? _ ” Grima knew that there was no way that this scrawny boy was the monster who-

“Looks to me like it’s a dragon, like Duma. Hopefully, Falchion works on it, in case it’s hostile.” Alm spoke as he gave a reassuring glance to Celica.

The way Alm pronounced Falchion sounded like he was using a sword. Grima, on the other hand, heard it as though he was using a weapon of mass destruction that had ruined his happiness.

This was the boy that had murdered Duma. His survival was a testament to that.

This was the boy that had slain Marla in cold blood like she was nothing more than an animal.

This was the boy who had ruined everything for Grima.

This was the boy who was going to have his insides broiled until Grima could see his head explode into a shower of blood.

Grima reared his head back and let out a screeching roar of pure, uncontrollable rage that sent shivers down Alm’s body.

“Everyone, get ready for a fight!” Alm raised his sword on high while his band of friends cheered behind him.

 

Even though Grima fought with all his strength, he had been defeated by Alm. What surprised him, however, was that when he fell, he didn’t die.

Instead, he found himself in some sort of pitch-black void.

“Hello?” He called out, only to be met with silence. Emptiness stretched out as far as his eyes could see, and he began to float in one general direction. Even the air felt as though it was empty; lacking in any warmth or coolness.

An unknown amount of time passed until Grima decided that he was trapped. Trapped in some sort of middle ground between life and death where he was the only living thing for as far as his eyes could see.

A bright flash of light caught his attention when he had just about given up hope, and he turned to see a floating parchment descend from above and float before him.

“Creation, if you are reading this, you have been defeated. However, as part of your grand design, you can never truly be killed. Your spirit shall linger until you can find a host with enough of my blood, as once you have a host, you can pull yourself back into the physical world.” The message read.

Grima continued to read the following paragraph. “Before I gave my blood to you, I captured roughly one hundred Archanean men and injected a sample of my blood into them, thus ensuring that you shall always have a suitable vessel on standby. When an individual has enough blood, you shall begin to hear their voice. Simply whisper back and convince them to come to the spot where you were last slain. Once they stand atop your resting spot, you may possess them and use them as an anchor to pull yourself back into the physical world.”

One final paragraph caught Grima’s eye. “In the meantime, the longer you remain in this realm, the more powerful you shall grow. Eventually, you shall dwarf the sea itself in your scope.” At the bottom of the paper was a small dash, and Forneus’ signature.

Grima tossed the paper away in disgust; even in death, Forneus was breathing down his back. In his anger, however, he failed to notice an additional paragraph written on the back. It looked as though it had been scrawled on there in a hurry. “If someone with enough blood to be possessed strikes you down, then you will, unfortunately, be slain. Permanently. Their blood will counteract yours, and your spirit shall be torn asunder.”

And so Grima waited.

And waited.

And waited.

A millennium of nothing but Grima rage growing with every moment, and his size increased as well. He had almost, _almost_ given up hope right before he finally heard the soothing sound of someone whispering.

“My… My life is a mess…” The unknown voice was riddled with distraught. “My wife left me, my son hates me… I don’t know what to do…” His whispers echoed around the area. This person must have enough of Forneus’ blood to be possessed.

Now was Grima’s chance; his moment to strike and claw his way back into the living world.

“I can… grant you unlimited power.” Grima whispered back. “Just do as I wish, and go to where I direct you.”

The man who had murmured to himself went by the name of Lagermil and was currently sitting by himself at a dimly-lit bar with his hands buried in his head. When a low, growling voice spoke back in his thoughts and informed him of unlimited power, his gut reaction told him to refuse the offer.

His desperation, on the other hand, made him accept. The voice instructed him to go to the old Thabian Labyrinths. Surely that was where his power was waiting.

What Lagermil didn’t expect was that he would become the first vessel for a destructive god with a vengeance, and become infamous as the founder of the Grimleal.

* * *

So after discovering that Grima received an excellent backstory in  _Shadows of Valentia_ , I figured I should capitalize on this new info and write my own personal take on how he reacted to some farm boy running into his home and slaying him.

The second (and final) chapter of this story will be uploaded when I finish it, which should hopefully take a week.


	2. Into the Fires of Ylisse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I recommend listening to The Giant Arises from Paper Mario Color Splash (https://youtu.be/oCX5s2e2nOA) when you see a * mark.

Chapter Two

Into the Fires of Ylisse

* * *

Historians would tell of the first holy war against Grima, the Fell Dragon. Before he arose from the grave, the continent of Archanea had been split into a multitude of kingdoms that shared borders but not goals.

That all changed when the Fell Dragon was unleashed when all but one of the dominions had banded together with the shared interest of sending that thing back to wherever it came from.

The one kingdom that had refused the union was a small halidom known as Plegia, which sat amidst the vast deserts to the west. Their reasoning that they gave to the public was that maybe Grima wasn’t as bad as he seemed.

Their actual reasoning that they dared not disclose was that Grima himself had approached the king of Plegia in his possessed flesh and gave him an offer that they could not refuse: worship him, or he shall burn the castle to the ground.

Thus, Plegia now devoted itself to the worship of Grima, and the Grimleal was created. Scholars would notice that the structure and overall goal of the Grimleal was remarkably similar to that of the Duma Faithful, but only Grima himself had the answer to that speculation.

After the remaining kingdoms had been united, they needed a way to seal Grima. They eventually settled on using the Falchion, the very same one used by the Hero King, and had the wielder of the Falchion perform the Awakening ritual which imbued the sword with Naga’s might. The wielder of the sword went on to defeat Grima at the Dragon’s Table and sealed the Fell Dragon using the power of the Shield of Seals.

After the dragon was sealed, the kingdoms united together under the name Ylisse, with the wielder of the Falchion becoming their exalt.

And so Grima slept underneath the ground, never to return.

Or so they thought.

 

Grima threw his head back in frustration and unleashed a roar as he found himself back in the shadowy void that contained his spirit. He knew that the wielder of the Falchion wouldn’t fight fair, but imbuing his sword with the magic of some Naga wench was a low blow.

He would have to make a mental note to remember this Naga and personally deliver vengeance to her.

That was not important. What was important was that Grima’s possessed body had been killed, and his dragon body followed suit, regardless of the fact that it had quadrupled in size in the last millennia.

So now he just had to wait for a few hundred years or so until he could just come back again. This was nothing special, and soon enough he would be back out there slaughtering the animals that had murdered Duma and Marla.

At least now he was infamous among the land and he had gotten the sweet taste of fear.

 

Five hundred years passed until Grima finally heard the sweet, wonderful sound of a poor soul whispering his name.

“I… I don’t know what to do…” A feminine voice whispered. This must be Grima’s next puppet.

“Come to the Dragon’s Table, and I shall grant your every desire,” Grima spoke back. Oddly enough, there was no response. “Are you listening?”

The voice spoke back, but now it was muffled and inaudible. Grima panicked and quickly searched the area. Something in this area was inhibiting his ability to communicate and he was being swindled out of world domination because of it.

His question was answered when he looked up to see a shield hanging above him and emanating a blinding white. It was the very same shield that was on the arm of the man who had killed Grima. This shield of sealing must be preventing him from coming back to the living world.

Fortunately, Grima had created a backdoor telepathic communication with the Grimleal head in case of emergencies like this.

“Come in, Grimleal. This is not a jape. Come in.” Grima spoke aloud. Supposedly the head of the Grimleal, which was indicated by their gray skin and lanky appearance, was supposed to hear Grima inside their thoughts and respond back in kind.

“I hear you loud and clear, Lord.” A voice responded not with a whisper but with a normal volume.

“Who am I speaking to?” Grima asked.

“Sivra, head of the Grimleal.”

“Splendid. I must inform you of a complication that has arisen. The Shield of Seals is now preventing me from returning to the world of the living.”

“Well, that simply will not do at all. What would you request of us?” Sivra asked.

“Contact whoever the hell is in charge of Plegia and tell them to get the Shield and the gemstones. Meanwhile, I want your undivided attention on the creation of a new vessel for me. The last thing I want when that barrier becomes broken is to find out you numbskulls were slacking on the job.”

“Understood. We shall fulfill your wish to the best of our abilities, Lord.” Grima could feel Sivra’s presence depart after the head finished speaking. However, Grima began to think about what he should do after his return.

“Wait wait wait! You must also go to the desert labyrinths and gather all the thantophages you can. Place them in masks and produce as many of those masks as you can.” Grima hurriedly spoke back.

“As you wish,” Sivra responded back.

And now Grima was back to waiting. At this point, he had grown rather used to it.

 

Five hundred more years passed until a noise caught Grima’s attention. It sounded as though a metal armament was falling apart, and he looked up to see cracks form in the shield above.

The shield split into five pieces and promptly disappeared, and soon after he heard the wonderful sound of his next vessel whispering to him.

“Are you alright?” Someone who must be standing next to the Vessel spoke, because their voice was quieter than normal. It even turned out that the Vessel was at the Dragon’s Table, so he could be possessed right now.

 

“That's the end of him. Thanks to you we carried the day. We can rest easy now. At long last…” A man with blue hair spoke as he placed a hand on the Vessel’s shoulder. The two stood among the ruins of the Dragon’s Table while Grima’s spirit emerged from the ground and flew into the back of the Vessel.

The Vessel’s vision became blurred as Grima began to control him like a puppet. “What's wrong? Hey, hang on-” The man spoke.

Grima jerked the Vessel’s hand into the man’s chest, where a bolt of lightning sprang out and impaled the blue-haired man through the heart.

The man with blue hair fell to his knees while the Vessel’s heart rate accelerated. “This is not your… your fault… Promise me you’ll escape from this place… Please, go…”

Grima took great pride in the loss of this life. He was one step closer to wiping out the killers of Duma and Marla. After searching through the Vessel’s memories, the deceased was the current Exalt, Chrom. He was a close friend to the Vessel, which worked out rather well in Grima’s plan to mentally break him.

“Gods…” The Vessel murmured as they fell to their knees. They looked to their hands, which were covered with Chrom’s blood.

“So… Robin, is it?” Grima spoke within his thoughts. “Shame you had to murder your best friend in cold blood like that.”

“Who… Who are you?” Robin’s thoughts responded with a shaky tone.

“I am the Fell Dragon, Grima, and I will be the best thing that has ever happened to you,” Grima responded. While he was in the middle of his back-and-forth with Robin, he noticed that a woman with long, red hair was approaching them. “Ah, and who might this be?”

Grima began to search through Robin’s memories and deduced that this was his wife, Cordelia. She was the mother of his two children, whom he loved dearly. “This must be your wife, correct?”

“Don’t you dare touch her…” Robin spoke back in a defensive tone.

“Robin, what’s going on?” Cordelia asked as she brandished her lance and slowly began to walk towards him. Her attention focused to Chrom, who laid dead on the floor. “Oh, gods! Chrom!”

“I didn’t kill him!” Robin shouted which startled Cordelia. Grima noticed that Robin was visibly shaking now as he huddled on the floor, which meant that Grima was indeed getting to him.

“Oh, but you did. I merely removed the restrictions you had placed upon yourself. You knew that your wife had always harbored feelings for Chrom, so your rage built until I loosened the floodgates.” Grima chuckled to himself; he loved the ripe stench of psychological torture.

“That’s not… That’s not…” Robin muttered to himself as he clutched his head in between his hands.

“Robin? Robin, listen to me!” Cordelia seated herself in front of Robin and held him in an embrace. “I’m here for you! Severa’s here for you! Morgan’s here, we’re all here and we can help you!” Grima could tell that Cordelia was loosening his vice on Robin’s mind, so he needed to think of something.

“Imagine what would happen to your family if word came out that you murdered the Exalt in cold blood. Think of the barbarians who would barge into your home and drag your wife out kicking and screaming to the chopping block. Think of the rogues who would strangle your infant children to ensure that your bloodline ends.”

Robin began to wail as he held Cordelia in his arms. “Or, you could accept my gift and allow me to possess you. If it were revealed that a man was possessed by a mad god and acted not of his own will, your family would most likely be spared.” Grima knew that Robin had no option but to accept his offer. His bonds to other mortals made him weak and manipulatable, after all.

“I… I accept…” Robin’s lip wavered while he responded, and black clouds began to envelop his body.

“Robin?” Cordelia scrambled to grab her husband’s hands but was unable to reach them through the fog. “Robin! What’s going on?”

 ***** Grima chuckled to himself with glee as he gained control of Robin’s body and cracked his knuckles. While he was still enveloped in the dark cloud, he clapped his hands together and created a wave of energy that knocked Cordelia backward.

The clouds dissipated and Grima watched as Cordelia flew onto her back and then scrambled to her feet. “Robin, is that…” Grima smirked at her visible confusion, then relished in the sweet feeling of being back in the mortal world.

Though it was odd to control a human, he felt himself get back into the groove of putting his feet forward in alternating fashion in order to walk.

“I’m sorry, but your husband is currently stuck in a void between life and death,” Grima spoke as he began to slowly walk towards Cordelia. Even though she was going to hate him for being the bearer of bad news, there was something… familiar about her.

“What… What are you…?” Cordelia slowly backed away from Grima’s advance.

“A god that is now possessing your husband.” The sensation of Cordelia’s fear was overwhelming Grima. So overwhelming, that Grima wanted more. He _craved_ it. “You can join me if you wish.” Grima tossed the idea out. Cordelia was quite fetching, and it would be rather humorous if Grima stole Robin’s body and his wife.

“No… You’re a monster.” She responded; her back was to the wall now. “I would never join you!”

She attempted to slide to the left along the wall, but Grima snapped his hands. Purple ropes emerged from the wall and tied themselves over Cordelia’s arms and legs until she was bound to the wall.

“Oh, come now.” Grima was bearing down on her with a glare in his eyes. “I beg you to reconsider. Maybe if you smiled, you wouldn’t be so irate.” He slowly placed his fingers to the edges of her lips and dragged them until she was replicating a smile. Her entire body was shaking with paralyzing fear. “See? You’re much prettier when you smile.”

“I’m. Not. Joining. You!” She gritted her teeth while she spoke, and her look of fear shifted to one of pure anger. She slightly wound her head back, then bashed it into Grima’s forehead.

“Ow!” Grima stumbled backward and quickly regained his composure, only now he was livid. “You want to play that way? Fine!” He raised his left arm to the sky, and Cordelia was lifted off her feet by a floating, purple hand that gripped her neck. Grima looked behind him to see a cracked window that overlooked a massive drop that would prove fatal to anyone thrown off.

Grima began to walk towards the window while Cordelia floated behind him; her face had gone completely red while she struggled to pry the ghostly fingers off her neck. “Down you go! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Grima pulled his raised hand back, then motioned it forward as though he was throwing a ball.

The ghostly hand threw Cordelia out of the window, which shattered as she collided with it. It would, however, be rather anticlimactic if she died, so Grima watched from the balcony as she fell a good distance before someone riding a winged horse caught her.

“ _Why am I fretting over this insignificant girl?_ ” Grima asked himself as he stared at the floor. He then looked outside to see his massive dragon body rise from the ground and unleash a massive roar. “ _She doesn’t matter now._ ”

What did matter was that Grima was back, and there were masks to spread over graveyards, people to kill, and more fear to be harvested. And Grima was sure as hell not going to repeat the mistakes he made last time.

 

At least ten years had passed after Grima came back from the dead. Or maybe it had been fifteen? He lost count due to his lack of interest.

In that short time, he had created an army of Risen by using the stockpile of masks the Grimleal had hoarded and spread them around the continent. He had killed most of Robin’s friends, including almost all of the human race if he was being honest, and had gone on undefeated.

He had done it, he had avenged Marla and Duma. He had killed off the bloodlines that were responsible for their deaths, and Grima should have felt feel inner peace by now.

But as he stood in the grand, empty halls of the Ylissean Castle, there was something… something more that Grima longed for. Something human that he had missed ever since he parted ways with Marla. Sure, he had driven the daughter of the Exalt and her idiotic band of friends out of the castle, but he did it by himself without someone who shared his outlook.

For the last few years, Grima had just wanted someone to murder people with.

The cogs in his head began to turn while he remembered a certain widow he had left an impression on a decade ago.

“Validar!” Grima clapped his hands together as he sat on the throne that belonged to the Exalt before Grima had killed him. “Do we have anything for mind control?”

As well as longing to be with someone for the last decade or two, Grima also was unable to stop thinking about that Cordelia women. Every night he would close his eyes and see Marla’s face on her body, or something of the sort.

From what he had gathered, she and Marla were very similar, and this piqued Grima’s interest.

“I’m afraid at this moment we do not, sire.” Validar pulled out a large, dusty tome and pulled it open. “However, this book contains all of the subjects that the Grimleal has been looking into. If one of them catches your fancy, simply tell me which one and I shall instruct your forces to focus solely on it.”

Grima snatched the large book out of Validar’s hand and eagerly began to thumb through the pages. Diagrams and notes were scribbled all over each page, and each looked more intriguing than the last.

“ _Let’s see here… An iron maiden that insults your mother… A chamber of perpetual screaming…_ ” His eyes focused on a drawing of an ornate visor. “ _The Mask of Twisted Opinions?_ ”

His focus shifted to the fine print underneath the drawing. “ _Upon donning this mask, the wearer shall see a different person in place of what they should be seeing. Example: two people, named Aerith and Bartholomew, are best friends, Aerith has a mortal enemy, Charles. If Aerith dons the mask, she shall see Charles as Bartholomew, and vice-versa._ ”

Grima’s eyebrows were raised as he handed the book back to Validar; his mind was already settled on exactly _who_ he was going to use the mask on. “Tell the Grimleal to create this Mask of Twisted Opinions, or whatever it’s called.”

“Uh, Lord…” Validar nervously glanced around the area. “You did read the fine print on that article, right?”

“Yes, yes. It makes people see others differently.” Grima turned his focus away from Validar and to the nearby window. The desolate lands that he had painstakingly cultivated were now covered by a thick blanket of snow that continued to fall from the bleak sky above.

“Any who wear the mask must give their consent before they can feel its influence.” Validar opened the book again and read a line that Grima had neglected to notice. “Do you still wish to authorize this decision?”

Grima folded his arms and began to ponder this new stipulation. There was the possibility that Cordelia wouldn’t willingly agree to its effects, so he needed a backup plan to make her say yes.

“We still have that psychological torture device in the basement, correct?” Grima looked back to Validar, who stood before the doorway that lead out of the castle. For the last few days, Validar had been building some sort of device that exposed a subject to their greatest fears when they were strapped to it.

“Technically, yes. But I will not be able to complete its construction if you want me to relay your orders.”

Grima’s mind began to race as he strummed his fingers together. If he were to use the mask in conjunction with the torture device, he could surely bend Cordelia to his will.

“Go tell them to make the mask. I’ll handle the messy details.” Grima waved his hand in the direction of the doorway and watched as Validar bowed before Grima, then left through the exit.

A few minutes later, Grima had entered the depressing sewers of the Ylissean Castle. The smell of raw waste and other vile things forced themselves into his nose as he walked through the pipeways. Validar often requested to place air-fresheners around the area, but Grima denied each and every question.

Really, it gave him nostalgic tingles of Duma’s caverns.

Eventually, Grima found the room he was looking for, which was a small square with a perpetually-burning lamp hanging above a raised stone table. Several crates, half of which were sealed and the other opened, were placed around the table.

“ _If you want something done, you need to do it yourself…_ ” Grima sighed as he knelt down before the boxes and began to fumble with the contents inside. He found a small piece of paper that had instructions and diagrams of the table drawn on it. The letters ‘DIY’ was written on the front of the paper.

The Grimleal had a nasty habit of sending the components needed to make a device, and not the fully-assembled device itself. Their reasoning was that they had too much on their plate to assemble everything they had, but Grima knew they were just lazy. He often came into their base to see them playing cards or pin the tail on the Exalt.

Regardless, he had to complete this table before Validar could make the mask because he was not about to be upstaged by his own manservant.

 

After roughly an hour of sweat, tears, frustration, and good old-fashioned manual labor, Grima had finished the torture device. As he took a step back, he wiped his brow as he inspected his newest masterpiece.

The table from before was now raised at a one-hundred and thirty-degree angle off the ground. At the area where the subject’s crown would be, the device had a circular halo adorned with runes that were infused with nightmarish magic. Cuffs were arranged at where the subject’s hands and legs would be in order to restrain them.

Normally, Grima would strap himself in to ensure the device worked, but that would require exposing himself to his greatest fears.

He didn’t feel like psychologically torturing himself anyway.

“Sire! The mask is ready!” Validar’s voice echoed throughout the sewers. Grima began to make his way out of the sewers until he found himself back in the empty halls of the Ylissean Castle.

Validar stood in the exit that lead outside with a metallic visor in his hands and a bright smile on his face. “Fresh from the arcanists, Lord. We found the mask in the ruins of Valm, and we infused it with the magic you desired.”

“Why thank you.” Grima smiled back as he took the mask in his hands and inspected it. It was a white visor with a black line running through it that allowed the wearer to see. It only covered the eyes of the wearer and the bridge of their nose.

What caught Grima’s eye was that the inside of the mask had the initials C, E, and S engraved on it. The letters were rather faded but still noticeable.

The objects used to make Cordelia submit to him were now complete, but now began the arduous process of actually finding the damn woman. First, he would have to locate her house, then draw her out with something that would force her ha-

“Our spies have located her house. It’s on the outskirts of Regna-Ferox in the mountains.” Validar chimed in while Grima was absorbed in his thoughts.

“Excellent.” Grima strummed his hands. Now he would need a way to get her out of her house without drawing attention to her.

Fortunately, he knew just the person to ask about this. “Validar, watch over my body,” Grima instructed as he shut his eyes, slumped over, and lost consciousness much to Validar’s confusion.

 

Grima awoke in a familiar black void that lulled him into a sense of security with its tranquil emptiness.

Or rather, it felt empty, because Grima wasn’t the only being in here.

“Robin! Oh, Robin!” Grima called out and was responded with the sound of a man mumbling to himself. He looked over his shoulder to see Robin, who Grima mistook for himself given that they both owned the same body, huddling in a corner and shaking violently. “There you are, you sad sack.”

For the last decade of fun Grima had with Robin’s body, Robin had been trapped in this void and forced to watch the events unfold through Grima’s eyes.

“I-I-I-I’m not going to tell you how to get her… You monster!” Robin screamed as he pulled his hands from his head and revealed his bloodshot eyes.

“Well, aren’t you a bore.” Grima knelt down beside Robin and gave him a smile. “Here I thought you would be fine with your body getting back together with your lovely wife.”

Robin attempted to lunge out and grab Grima by the neck so that he could regain his body. The key word was ‘attempted’, as Robin was promptly knocked to the ground by Grima’s fist where he whined like a baby.

“I was asking nicely,” Grima said as he placed his foot on the back of Robin’s throat. “And now you’ve angered me.”

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on Cordelia.” Robin’s voice was muffled as he spoke into the shadowy floor.

“Oh, I will lay a finger on her. The question here is whether or not I’ll kill her once I find her. I have quite a few other beautiful women waiting in the wings, one of which is a close friend of yours, and I’m doing you a favor, honestly. You get to spend the rest of eternity knowing your wife is safe in my care.”

Grima began to apply more pressure to his boot. “So either I find your wife and I kill her, or I find your wife and give her the loving attention she so clearly desires.”

Robin’s silence was deafening, so Grima knew he needed to apply more metaphorical oil to his wheels.

Grima snapped his fingers and above the two identical men was a pair of bright, glowing holes in the sky that vaguely resembled one’s pair of eyes. Robin’s attention was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

In the eyes was a vision of a burning house, two dead bodies that looked to be about the age of teenagers, and a woman with red hair who laid huddled in the middle of a ring of fire.

“R-Robin?” Cordelia wheezed out; her breath was irregular and sounded as though it would be her last. “Help… Help me…”

Far in the distance behind Cordelia, amidst the orange sky, was the head of Grima’s dragon body. It rose up and unleashed a mighty roar.

The holes disappeared and Robin let out a quiet scream. It was not the scream of anger, or any other emotion Grima had been exposed to.

It was the scream of a broken man; a man forced to watch his world burn and know that he was responsible for it. A man forced to sell his own wife out so that she and his family may survive.

“If… If you threaten her family, she will respond.” Robin wheezed as Grima removed his foot from the man’s throat.

“Thank you for your time.” Grima smiled as he patted Robin on the head and closed his eyes.

 

Grima’s mouth tasted like some sort of foul obscenity when he awoke to see Validar leaning over him with a concerned look in his eyes.

“Ah, you’re safe and sound.” Validar breathed a sigh of relief. “Have you learned anything useful you would like to shar-”

“Dismissed, Validar. You get the rest of the day off.” Grima waved his hand away. Validar silently bowed and departed through the front exit. While he was leaving, Validar placed a photo of a house on a nearby table.

Grima lifted the photo up and inspected it. It was a rather nice house set against a snowy backdrop, and in front of it was a woman with red hair.

Five minutes later, Grima had assembled a squad of risen in the front of the castle lobby. He paced back and forth with a map in his hands. “Alright, things! Your mission is to march towards this house and make yourselves as known as possible while you do it. When a red-haired woman attacks you, do _not_ kill her. Get rid of her mount before she strikes you down.

One of the risen raised their hand and looked to Grima. “Yes?”

“Rabhle gargle rawugh augh geargh?” The risen mumbled while Grima remembered that these zombies had the speech capacity of a newborn. He would have to translate.

“I’m sorry, but could you repeat that?” Grima spoke in a polite tone.

“Rabhle gargle rawugh augh geargh? (So this is a suicide mission?)” The risen asked again.

“Yes, technically.” Grima noticed the look of sadness on all of the risen. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. You signed up for this when I placed a mask on your corpse.”

“Gergagh gagoop weragio ragh? (Can I quit?)” Another risen asked. Grima slowly shook his head.

“Look, just point to her house on this map so I know you can find your way.” Grima sighed as he held the map up. He had drawn in big bold letters, ‘Cordelia’s Gods-damned House’ around the rough area where her house should be, and ‘Flocks of Sheep’ on the other side of the map.

Of course, the risen immediately pointed towards the flocks of sheep with looks of certainty in their eyes. Grima placed his hand to his forehead and groaned. “Alright, wrong. Let’s try that again.”

He took the map back to the table and scribbled out the flock of sheep with a quill until half of the map was just a gigantic collection of scribbles. Surely, they couldn’t mess this up now.

“Raddle raddle. (You know, this is kind of insulting.)” Another risen grumbled as Grima came back into their field of vision with a new map.

“Point to Cordelia’s house.” The tiny shred of compassion in Grima’s voice had disappeared, which incentivized the risen to get this correct. They immediately pointed to the spot on the map that Cordelia’s house was. “Excellent, I knew I could put my faith in you.”

“Grawgh? (Can I get a raise?)” The risen who was the first to point at the abode eagerly raised its hand. Grima shook his head again.

“You’ll find weapons waiting for you outside.” Grima knew that this next bit would require some dramatic flair. He quickly switched consciousness with his dragon body, which had been floating above the castle for the last few weeks.

He felt the familiar rush of flapping his six wings in unison. “NOW GET GOING BEFORE I MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE DEAD!” Grima boomed in a loud, menacing voice from the clouds above.

The risen, although confused by the source of the voice, were quickly sent running out of the castle in a distressed panic. “AND LEARN HOW TO SPEAK WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!”

Grima switched back into Robin’s body and decided that he had the rest of the day off. He then proceeded to sort through all the ideas he had, including making macaroni art of Duma with Validar, or playing a deadly game of hide-and-go-seek with a group of risen.

About a few hours later, Grima had remembered why he never interacted with any of his underlings. They always gave him the same excuse of ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Lord, but I cannot turn my attention away from my current task.’

Honestly, it would be enough to drive any lesser being to the brink of depression. Not Grima, though. He would never feel lonely. He was the absolute perfect specimen of health, who was currently sitting on his bed mumbling to himself with a bucket of chicken wings at his side.

“Oh, Grima. You’re so big, and strong, and handsome. Take me in your arms!” Grima attempted to replicate Cordelia’s voice as he held two dolls in his hands. One was a woman with red hair and the other was a buff man with white hair. “Why yes, Cordelia. I will happily give you everything you nee-”

Validar opened the door to Grima’s bedroom to see his god playing with dolls and having a ring of chicken meat around their face. Grima looked up and immediately threw his dolls away before glaring at Validar. “What the hell did I tell you about knocking before entering?”

“Sire, I uh…” Validar’s voice trailed off as he pondered exactly how long Grima had been up here. “The risen have engaged Cordelia. She shall be ready for extraction shortly.” Grima’s eyes lit up like stars in the sky.

“Good. Help clean me up and get our finest blanket. It’s rather chilly outside.” Grima stood up and attempted to wipe the discarded wings off his lap, but failed. Validar shook his head and sighed.

This was going to be a rather strenuous make-over.

 

One of the perks of being the singular, perfect being was that Grima could teleport one of his bodies to the location of the other. So, if he needed to wipe a building off of the map, he could teleport his dragon body to his human body, and destroy the house from inside-out with his massive frame.

Or, if he needed to get somewhere quickly, he could warp his human body to the back of his dragon body and ride it as though it were a glorified mount for a wyvern knight.

So Grima left in the general direction towards Cordelia’s house atop the back of his dragon body while the red sky shone above him. The only complication was that he had one stop to make before meeting his companion-to-be.

The surrounding area of the Demon’s Ingle was layered with a thick blanket of ash instead of the usual snow of winter, and even more ash fell from the sky. The volcanic air around Grima would normally force any mortal to sweat like mad in order to drive the heat away, but it was nothing more than summer heat to Grima.

As he stood at the base of the volcano, Grima knelt down before a small monument made of stones that he had created ten years ago.

“H-Hello, Duma.” An intense wave of grief clutched Grima’s heart. His eyes began to well up. Many, many years ago, Alm had moved Duma’s remains to this very spot, where a volcano had formed with the lava being his holy blood.

Grima’s knees buckled and he doubled over while he sniffled. “I… I just wanted to stop by and tell you how things are going. I drove the Exalt’s daughter and her friends out of their castle and taken it for myself.”

Grima buried his head into the ash next to the monument. “I...I’ve driven humanity to the brink of extinction, and I just wanted to…” He let out a cry; he just wanted to have his friend back. “I just wanted to tell you, that I’m doing it all for you.”

Grima slowly got to his feet and wiped his eyes. “Please tell Marla that I said hello.”

 

After his brief stop, Grima was now in the snowy valleys of Regna Ferox and hot on the trail of arrows that his Risen left among the path. Snow lightly sprinkled the ground, but what intrigued Grima was the trail of red blood that seeped into the ground.

His dragon body waited on standby as he followed the crimson trail, and he knew he was getting close when he saw arrows poking out of a large mound of snow.

Grima tossed the pile aside, forcing the snow off to reveal that he had just thrown a dead pegasus as though it was a sack of used vegetables. Underneath the dead animal was his goal, however.

Shivering and unconscious was Cordelia. She must have been trapped underneath the thing and passed out from the snow. She looked quite peaceful as she slept, with her red hair trailing onto the ground like spilled wine.

Grima wrapped her in the blanket and slung her over his shoulder. He used his free wand to wave a spell and muttered an incantation, leaving a fake corpse of Cordelia in the snow behind. He walked away, whistling to himself all the while.

 

Grima emerged through the entrance of his castle with Cordelia in his arms as though he was carrying a newborn child. The blanket that Validar provided -which had the symbol of the Grimleal embroidered on it- was wrapped around her body.

She was still passed out from exhaustion and seemed to be alright, but her body was cold to the touch. Grima would have to warm her up by the fire before he could convert her to his side.

By the time Cordelia started to stir, Grima had already brought her to the living room of the castle, which had two chairs, a fireplace that crackled to life, and a bear pelt placed on the wall above the fire.

Grima carefully placed Cordelia on one of the two velvet-covered chairs, removed the blanket from her body and set it on her lap, then seated himself on the other chair. He had already instructed Validar to make a batch of hot chocolate, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Cordelia woke up.

Now came the civil part of her recruitment, and in the best possible scenario, Grima wouldn’t have to mentally shatter her.

"Cordelia... Time to wake up, dear..." He whispered.

Grima’s eyebrows were raised as Cordelia continued to stir; her eyes slowly opened and she began to sit upright. The light of the nearby fire danced off her features and only heightened Grima’s notion of how beautiful she was.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good.” Grima spoke. Cordelia’s eyes were fully opened and she immediately sprang upright as she noticed who was sitting across from her.

Cordelia scrambled to the other side of the room where one of the exits was and fumbled with the door. She could not get it to budge, and Grima made no attempt to pacify her. “Why won’t this door…”

“I’m afraid you’ll find that door is locked,” Grima spoke in a passive tone. “Now how about we discuss this like civil adults.” Grima pointed to the empty chair. “Sit down. I insist.”

The look of fear combined with her unnerved mannerisms as she slowly walked back to her chair gave Grima the impression that Cordelia didn’t feel quite at home. “Are you cold?”

“Why are you doing this?” Cordelia asked as she sat down in her chair and gripped the hand rests tightly.

“I have a proposition and a use for you. But we can get to that shortly.” Grima wondered why she didn’t answer his question. After all, he wanted to make sure that she felt comfortable.

The door behind Grima opened to reveal Validar, who carried a pitcher of hot chocolate and two cups. He also wore an apron that read ‘Kiss the Cult’. Cordelia tracked his movements as he set the drink and cups down on the table next to her and exited out from the same door he entered from.

“But you said the doors were locked...” Cordelia moved to get up before the sound of a lock snapping into place resounded through the room.

“I said _that_ door was locked, not all of them. Now, however, all of them are locked.” Grima smirked as Cordelia eyed her hot chocolate as though it was a death trap. “Oh, come now. It’s not poisoned or anything.

Grima stood up, walked to her side, grabbed one of the cups and poured a serving of hot chocolate into it. “Here, I’ll demonstrate.” Grima heartily downed his drink and felt the scalding beverage tickle his throat. He figured he should at least have a little fun with her.

Grima clutched his throat and began to feign a wail as his cup fell to the floor and shattered. “Ah! It _was_ poisoned! Who would’ve thought… betrayed by my own manservant…” Grima coughed repeatedly as he fell to the ground. He caught a glance of the scared look on Cordelia’s eyes before he closed his own.

A few seconds later, Grima sprang back up and stood within kissing distance of Cordelia's face as he grinned.

“Ta-dah! Got you!” He smiled with glee as Cordelia screamed and scrambled backward.

“You’re… You’re insane!”  Cordelia put a hand to her chest as she attempted to catch her breath.

“Correction, my dear. I’m _unhinged_. There’s a difference.” Grima sat back down in his seat as he smiled. “Now, moving on. Let’s get to that proposition now.” He grabbed the mask from his coat pocket and held it up. “Will you put on this mask?” Grima knew that she wouldn’t agree to the effects of the mask if she was told what they were. The only thing that asking her accomplished was putting the mask in her thoughts before the torture began.

“No." Cordelia folded her arms and glared at him.

“Well, that’s a shame.” Grima got to his feet and walked to the space behind her chair. “Because unfortunately, I won’t take no for an answer.” He placed his hands on Cordelia’s shoulders and could feel the tension in them. She attempted to squirm away before Grima tightened his grip. “This means two things. One, I’ll have to break you, and two, worst of all, is that you will not get any hot chocolate.”

Given that Grima had a great deal of free time on his hands, he had often studied about the biology of humans. What he found most intriguing is that there was a specific nerve between one’s neck and shoulder that, if pinched, would knock someone unconscious.

He quickly brought his right hand to the area between Cordelia’s shoulder and neck, where he pinched the area of her skin.

She jerked her head up and let out a wail as she looked back to Grima with a look of intense pain. She then shut her eyes and slumped out of her chair.

Grima was surprised that the technique worked, and took a step back as Cordelia fell out of her chair onto the floor. He bent down and lifted her back onto his shoulder for the second time today and exited the living room.

Diplomacy had failed.

As Grima was busying carrying Cordelia to the sewers, Validar had informed him that there was a book waiting for him in the torture room that Validar had hand-picked himself.

As Grima entered the dimly-lit chamber with a pain in his left shoulder, he made his way to the torture table which he gently placed Cordelia on. He adjusted the leather straps on her arms and legs so that she was strapped to the table with her arms at her side, and lowered the stone halo so that it was over her crown.

She didn't even mumble in her sleep as Grima took a step back. She continued to snore as purple gas emanated from the halo and seeped into her nose.

Supposedly, she was being exposed to her greatest fears while she slept. In about an hour, she would wake up, and this would give Grima another opportunity to offer the mask.

Now that Grima had an hour on his hands, he turned his focus to the book that Validar had left on a table, which was titled ‘Crippling Loneliness and You’.

“Oh, gods-dammit!” Grima threw his hands up in anger at Validar’s stupidity. “ _I am not lonely!_ ” He seated himself behind the table and glared at the book with his arms folded. His mind drifted for a bit until he realized that he would need some way to tell how Cordelia would perceive him if she put the mask on.

 

After an hour of on-and-off reading, coupled with writing his name and Robin’s on a blank paper, his heart skipped a beat when Cordelia awoke with a scream.

Grima scrambled to his feet and noticed that Cordelia was crying while she struggled to break free from the table.

“Stop! Stop! Make it stop!” Tears streaked down her face as her eyes jittered around the room like a frightened animal. “Oh, gods please make it stop!”

Whatever Cordelia had been exposed to in her slumber must have been very, very effective in scaring her. So effective that it slightly unnerved Grima with how distressed she was.

“What would you say if I told you that if you put on this mask, I can make it stop?” Grima held the mask up in his hands while Cordelia’s focus trained on it. He made sure to pull the stone halo up so Cordelia wouldn’t be exposed to another dose of the gas.

“Yes, please! Anything to make it stop!” She screamed again as more tears lined her cheeks. Her eagerness to put the mask on was noted.

“Alright, I’m putting the mask on now… You’re sure?” Grima made sure to double-check.

“Just end this madness! I’m begging you!” Her wide eyes watched as Grima slowly placed drew the visor closer to her eyes.

The very instant the mask touched the skin of her head, it sprang from Grima’s hands and clamped onto Cordelia’s eyes as though it was glued to them. Her head snapped upright as a purple light shone through the black line of the mask, and a few moments later, the light disappeared.

Her masked face was now staring directly at Grima, but she looked rather indifferent instead of being afraid.

“Alright, Cordelia. Can you hear me?” Grima asked; he needed to make sure this wasn’t a ruse.

She moved her mouth as to speak, but no words came out. She tried again but to no avail. Eventually, she simply nodded her head. “Can you speak?” She shook her head now.

Apparently, a side effect of the mask must be the removal of the subject’s voice. “Moving on,” Grima spoke as he removed the restraints from Cordelia’s arms and grabbed the paper he had drawn on. He held it up before him. “Which person am I?” If the mask was working as intended, she would see Robin in his stead.

Cordelia slowly brought her finger up until she pointed at the name ‘Robin’ on the paper. Grima smiled as he removed the restraints, and was responded with Cordelia leaping off of the table and wrapping her arms around Grima.

His heart skipped a beat as he felt her arms constrict his torso in a hug, and he instinctively held his hands up out of confusion. “Gah!” If the effects of the masks were to be trusted, Cordelia now viewed Grima as Robin.

It felt… odd to receive physical contact with the race Grima had spent a few millennia developing a hatred for. “ _Why… Why am I feeling these feelings?_ ” Beads of sweat trickled down Grima’s brow as he held Cordelia in an embrace.

“ _Am I defiling my moral code by tolerating this human?_ ” Grima pondered this thought while Cordelia buried her head into his chest. His cheeks were now the shade of her hair. “ _No. I keep the Grimleal around. She’s nothing more than a member of the Grimleal; I have a use for her, so I do not kill her._ ”

“Sire, is everything well down there?” Validar’s voice echoed from above.

“For the last time, yes!” Grima barked as Cordelia tightened her grip on his back. Grima realized that he would need a way to disguise Cordelia, as her just walking around in broad daylight with him would surely draw the ire of her daughters and their annoying friends. “Have our best tailors make a copy of my cloak and pants!”

“Your wish is my command!” Validar responded as Grima heard the faint sound of his footsteps grow softer and softer.

As Grima looked down to Cordelia, an idea began to form in his head. He remembered back when Marla was with him, how he would fantasize about settling down and starting a family with her.

Of course, there were certain biological limitations, such as the question of how a dragon would reproduce with a human female, but that was beside the point.

What Grima wanted, after he killed every human who he couldn’t get a use out of, was a family. A family who would care for him, and actually spend time with him, and murder survivors with him until they and their servants were the last people on this land.

His thoughts then drifted to Cordelia’s children, Severa and Morgan, who had been thorns in his side ever since they learned how to use a sword. However, if he were to use the same masks on them as he did Cordelia, then surely they would reconsider their views on him.

Maybe, they would see him as a father. Then he would have children _and_ a loving wife. However, there was one member of this hypothetical family that he would be missing.

A brother to Grima. Another dragon who understood his hatred of humans. Duma. The only issue was that Duma was currently dead, and there was no way to bring him back into a living for-

“ _Forneus…_ ” Grima’s divine heart skipped a beat as he struck an epiphany. If Forneus could create a dragon entirely from scratch, then surely Grima could produce a genetic clone of Duma.

Grima held Cordelia’s hand tight in his grasp as he left the sewers and found Validar holding up a black cloak and a pair of pants, both of which were identical to his own, in the throne room of the castle. “Well, that was fast.”

“We already had a spare in reserve, in case you smeared chicken grease on it.” Validar handed the cloak to Cordelia, who smiled and shook his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” He responded.

“Alright, Cordelia. My father and I need to discuss something. Could you go get changed in that room over there?” Grima patted her on the shoulder to get her attention and pointed to a nearby door that lead to the bathroom. She smiled and kissed Grima on the cheek as she walked away with the clothes slung over her shoulder.

“You seem to have taken a liking to her.” Validar turned and smiled to Grima, who attempted to hide the fact that he was beaming.

“S-shut up.” Grima needed to find a new conversation, and fast. “What books do we have on the creation of life?”

“You mean like the birds and the bees? I knew that you had taken a liking to her, but maybe you should wait a few years before you impre-” Validar noticed that Grima had pulled his hood over his head to avoid revealing his blushing cheeks.

“No! Not that kind of life! Gods, how dense are you?” Grima waited until his thoughts were no longer filled with things that would make a school girl squeal before he spoke again. “I meant life as in, you know, the creation of a genetic clone of Duma.”

“Sire, you do realize…” Beads of sweat began to trickle down Validar’s forehead. “You do realize that messing with the natural order of life is not to be taken lightly. Think of the horrific implications that could arise from you creating a new life form.”

“If Forneus could do it, then so can I.” Grima was not about to be upstaged by his loathsome rat of a creator. If he wanted Duma back, then surely there was a way.

“Alright…” Validar gulped as more sweat poured down his face. “We have a book on that subject in the library.” Before Validar even finished his sentence Grima was walking away with youthful confidence in every step he took. “Just… Please do not make any reckless decisions.”

“Yes, yes. Whatever.” Grima turned his head and spoke. While he stomped down the hallways, Cordelia emerged from a nearby room wearing her cloak and pants. She wrapped her arms around Grima’s left and followed him down the hallway.

Soon enough the two were in the decrepit library of the castle. Dust lined the bookcases that stretched both high to the ceiling and far off in the long room. Using the help of a stepladder and good-ol’ fashioned manual searching, they found a series of books containing all of the knowledge the Grimleal had gathered over a thousand years, conveniently labeled ‘Encyclopedia Grimannica’.

After grabbing the book from the series with a C put on its spine, Grima brought the hefty tome back to the main table and seated himself next to Cordelia. The very instant he got comfortable, however, Cordelia rested her head on his shoulders as though he were a pillow.

It felt… odd to have someone else dote over him in a similar manner to Marla’s affection all those years ago. Not that Grima minded it, but it just left him confused as to why he was feeling… care towards this woman.

“Let’s see…” Grima cracked open the musty book and thumbed through the index. “Creation of agricultural goods… Creation of furniture…” His eyes widened as he scrolled through the list. “Creation of life!”

He immediately flipped to the page that was listed and eagerly read through it while narrating what he read. “Through our studies and the nature of our lord, we at the Grimleal have determined that the creation of artificial life requires two key components. One, something that the new creation can use as a basis for a form. If, say, you were trying to create a hound, you would need something from an existing dog to give the life its shape and characteristics. Two, incredibly potent blood is needed to breathe life into something new.”

Grima’ mind began to race and began to speak his thoughts aloud. “If I were to use lava from the Demon’s Ingle for the blood, I would just need something related to Duma for its form.”

While Grima was busy pondering what exactly was related to Duma, Cordelia, meanwhile, had noticed what her ‘husband’ was saying and grabbed the book of the encyclopedias that had the letter D on its spine. He was taken aback as she set the book onto the table, but appreciated her initiative nonetheless. “Oh, uh… Thank you.” He smiled as she sat down and she quickly kissed her on the forehead. She beamed back with delight while she watched Grima file through even more pages of that book.

Eventually, Grima had found that because of the mark on Alm’s left hand, he shared his bloodline directly with Duma. So, if he were to find Alm’s remains, then he might be able to fuse it with the blood to create another Duma.

Through more intensive research, he discovered that the remains of Valm’s founders were kept in a tomb at Walhart’s castle. Or, rather, it was Walhart’s castle until he had been killed before Grima came back to the living world.

Grima looked to his right and noticed that Cordelia had fallen asleep slumped on his shoulder. “Cordelia… Cordelia, come on.” He slowly shook her by the shoulders until her eyes opened. She slowly stretched her arms out and moved her mouth as though she was yawning, but made no sounds. “We’re going to Valm castle. Any objections?”

Cordelia shook her head as a sign of confirmation then locked her arms around Grima’s as she followed him out.

 

Amidst the wide, barren plains of Valm, two soldiers stood guard at the front gate of Valm castle, scanning the horizon for potential threats. Ever since their conqueror, Walhart, died eight years ago in his grand battle against Grima, the castle had been used as a safe haven for the citizens of Valm. Roughly 500 civilians were packed into the vast hallways of the castle, and it was the duty of the soldiers to protect them.

One of the two guards yawned as he held his spear upright. He was thankful for the insulation of his armor amidst this chilly weather, but his boredom had been growing for the last month or so.

Snow continued to lightly float down from the sky, and the guard held his hand out to catch some of the flakes, which melted in his gloved palm.

 _Splash_ . A drop of cold water had landed on his hand. “ _Odd. It shouldn’t be raining…_ ” He thought while looking up to the sky.

He let out a scream of terror as the skies swirled with a crimson glow and blood showered from the clouds. He looked to his arms and noticed that his armor was stained red, and the other guard noticed the same.

“Get inside, now!” The other guard screamed as he pounded on the front gate. The massive doors slowly opened and the two guards scrambled inside to the safety of the castle. Panic ensued inside the castle once the civilians and guards noticed the torrential downpour of blood outside.

The gates were quickly shut, but they started to knock a moment later. They knocked again, only this time there was more force behind the knock. The guards stood back with their weapons drawn and their anxiety building. Whatever was attacking those gates must be some monstrous abominat-

Before they could even finish their thoughts, the gates were knocked off their hinges and thrown open. Although the blood continued to rain outside, none of it entered the castle itself. It just stopped as though there was a glass wall in the doorway.

A pair of figures wearing identical clothes walked through the entrance; their robes looked as dry as a desert, regardless that they had walked through a massive bank of crimson water.

“Hello, troops!” The man with white hair spoke out in a booming voice. “Nice of you to keep this place nice and tidy for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a certain body from your tomb that I need to loot.” The soldiers noticed the bright red markings underneath the man’s eyes, and that his silent partner had her cloak drawn over her head.

Before Walhart had gone to fight Grima all those years ago, he had given the troops very specific instructions. Protect the castle and everything inside it.

Grima noticed the panicked, yet controlled stares of silence that the guards responded with. “No?”

He waited. Maybe he wouldn’t have to exert his energy today.

“Charge!” One plucky, yet foolishly overconfident recruit yelled as he raised his spear on high and attempted to charge Grima.

”Wrong answer.” Grima sighed as he unsheathed his favorite silver sword and sighed again. He always hated having to fight more of these damn humans when they actually put up a fight.

The one recruit who charged Grima was quickly impaled through the gut by Cordelia before he could strike Grima and fell to the ground clutching his bleeding chest. She then looked up to the remaining guards and raised her lance towards them as an act of intimidation.

The act didn’t work, as the remaining guards raised their weapons high and charged to avenge their fallen friend. Grima held his hand out to stop Cordelia from attacking and waited until the guards were all in one convenient circle-shaped spot around him.

He outstretched his arm towards the sky; the veins in his arm to glow with a purple sheen as a ball of smoke began to build in his palm. He slammed his hand into the ground, and the capsule of smoke expanded to the point where every soldier was now trapped in a pitch-black void, unable to see anything save for their hands.

The shrill scream of one of the guard’s echoed through the area, sending a chill through the survivors. Another scream followed, then another. One guard, in particular, tried to slowly back out of the smoke, only for his back to hit what he thought was a wall.

He turned around to see the white-haired man, whose face was illuminated by the glowing red marks underneath his eyes, bearing a silver sword down on him with a crazed look in his eyes.

The guard followed the succession of screams as Grima impaled him through the chest and quickly yanked his sword out as though he were swatting a fly. He then continued along the line of confused soldiers until he was sure he had eliminated all of them.

The smoke that billowed through the entrance quickly disappeared, and Grima noticed that all of the soldiers were dead on the ground, which was soaked with blood, but he recognized some that he had not killed. “ _But then who killed them?_ ”

The answer to his question was made clear when he heard the clang of metal and a scream. He turned and saw a silver spear impaled through the neck of the last standing soldier, who toppled to the floor with a gurgle to reveal Cordelia standing behind him. “Nicely done, dear,” Grima spoke as he sheathed his sword. He estimated that Cordelia must have killed at least half of the soldiers here.

At least twenty foul murderers of Duma had been slain today. It was a good haul, but it was not enough to satiate Grima. His mind turned to the civilians who fled into the halls when he entered. “There’s more risen running around in the hallways, however. Could you track them down while I try to find the tomb?”

Cordelia nodded her head and gripped her spear with both hands as she stepped over the bodies of the troops and into the hallways.

 

After she had thrusted her lance into the last risen, Cordelia took a step back to catch her breath as the creature fell to the ground with a gurgle. The fog around her disappeared to reveal her husband, Robin, sheathing his sword as he stood among the purple corpses of dead risen. “Nicely done, dear.” He spoke. “There’s more risen running around in the hallways, however. Could you track them down while I try to find the tomb?”

Cordelia nodded her head and gripped her spear with both hands as she stepped over the bodies of the risen and into the hallways. She wasn’t sure exactly why she couldn’t speak, but she couldn’t care less. She was just overjoyed that her husband had been freed from Grima’s control and was now working with her to eradicate the risen as they traveled Ylisse and Valm aboard some sort of flying ship that used six oars to soar through the sky

It was a shame that this castle had been overtaken by the shambling corpses, but if destroying them ensured a better future for her friends and family, then so be it.

As she walked down the dimly-lit hallways, she was taken aback when a risen wearing the clothes of a villager jumped out from one of the doorways and attempted to strike her with a cooking pot. She impaled the beast through the chest, watched it tumble to the ground as it coughed black blood, then continued on her way.

After half-an-hour of ducking into rooms along the hallways, killing the risen inside them, then going on to the next, Cordelia found herself at what she was sure was the final room where risen might be hiding. She entered the small room, which had two beds and a dining table, to see a female risen leaning against the wall with a panicked look in her eyes.

The risen held her hands up and began to scream in an unintelligent tongue while Cordelia brought her spear down and quickly dispatched it. Cordelia swore that she saw the risen cry as it fell to the ground and coughed up its blood, but her eyes must be playing tricks on her.

“Rehtom! On!” The distinctive cry of a child perked Cordelia’s ears up, and she noticed a small risen trembling as it hid between the bed and the wall. “Esaelp t’od llik em…” Tears were streaking down the undead child’s face.

Cordelia had to hold back tears as she aimed her lance down at the child. Even poor, defenseless children were being turned into risen. She decided it was best to put the risen out of its misery so that it may be freed from this life.

Cordelia brought the lance down upon the risen and watched its red eyes lose their glow. She placed her fingers upon the child’s cold, lifeless forehead and muttered a quick prayer so that its spirit may be freed from the risen and ascend to the afterlife.

She exited the room and continued down the hallway until she saw Robin waiting for her in the grand lobby of the castle as he stood before a large statue of Walhart and a staircase that lowered into the ground. She threw her arms around her husband and shed a quick tear.

It was not an easy task to kill a risen child, but it was for the best.

 

The smell of dust and bodies overpowered Grima’s nostrils as he stepped down the staircase and into the catacombs underneath the castle. In his bloodlust, he failed to notice a large, marble statue of Walhart in the back of the entrance room that stood against several stained-glass windows, which had the sentence, ‘A conqueror who fought a god, and whose legend lives on in the heart of Valm.’ inscribed onto the base of it. He had fumbled with the statue for a bit until he discovered that by tapping the word Valm, the statue moved back to reveal a staircase.

“ _This must be where they keep the royal lineage_.” Grima thought as he opened his palm and created a small fireball inside it to illuminate his view. Cordelia followed closely behind as he walked down the long room.

To the left and right of him were spaces where the dirt walls had been carved out to create a space for the fallen royals of Valm. Grima knew this, as the very first space to his left had an urn and a red helmet next to it. The name, ‘Walhart’, was written in stone above the space.

Considering Alm was the founder of the country that would become Valm, his body must be at the very end of this hallway. Or so Grima thought, as he discovered the body at the very end of the room was some Rudolf fellow.

Grima found himself leaning over a stone coffin that had Alm’s name inscribed on it. His heart began to beat out of his chest; here was the mongrel who had killed Duma and stole 1000 years of Grima’s life.

He slowly lifted the top of the coffin off and tossed it to the side to reveal a skeleton inside it.  However, to make sure this was indeed Alm and not some fake, Grima jerked the left hand of the cadaver up, and indeed he found mark resembling a star burned onto the back of its hand.

This was indeed Alm’s body. This was the brand bearer who had caused Duma so much pain and turmoil all those years ago. This was the foul rat who killed Marla and all his friends.

This was the pig that had killed Grima.

Grima’s eyes began to well and he trembled with rage as he lifted the body’s head up and glared at it. “This… This is for killing me…” He smashed his other fist into the skeleton’s head and felt the bridge of its nose crack. Grima’s eyes continued to water. “This is for murdering Marla!” He punched again; the head now had a massive dent in it. He screamed out in anguish before he delivered the final blow. “And this...This is for slaughtering Duma!”

As Grima’s fist collided with the skull, he felt the bone crack and shatter into an assortment of tiny pieces beneath his clenched, trembling fist. No matter what Validar had tried to tell him, revenge did indeed feel good. So good, that Grima had to take a step back to catch his breath.

Duma and Marla had been avenged. His rage should have subsided by now, but instead, it continued to grow. His hands crackled with purple lightning, which grew brighter and brighter with each second that passed.

A pair of hands emerged from behind his chest and held him in an embrace. His breathing began to slow as he felt Cordelia hug him.

Even though she had no idea that he was Grima, he still interpreted as her love for him. A similar love to the kind Marla had for him. Grima turned around and held her back while he sobbed into her shoulders.

He discovered how nice it felt nice to be cared for.

After he regained his composure, he shifted his view to Alm’s skeleton, which was now missing a head. Considering the brand was on his arm, that must mean that his left arm had the most of Duma’s influence in his body. Grim reached into the coffin and ripped the arm off of the skeleton with a loud ‘crack’ ensuing.

As he studied the arm, the sides of his mouth shifted into a smirk as he walked away with Cordelia close behind. The arm was locked firmly in his grasp and continued to remain there until Grima returned to the castle.

The first thing Grima did when he returned was instruct Validar on creating a facility that would transport lava from the Demon’s Ingle to the castle via a network of pipes.

The second thing he did was throw Alm’s arm into the closet of his bedroom and lie down on his bed, where Cordelia promptly joined him.

 

A few months later, the lava refinery had been built and was processing lava directly from Valm into the new laboratory Grima had built in the castle. Although Validar had valid questions regarding how they would transport a liquid that burned everything, save for the hardest of metals, they were supposedly able to find a way regardless.

Alm’s arm had been thrown into a large container, which had been going through the process of being filled with lava for the last month. In a short while, Grima would have a new Duma to rule alongside with.

As Grima sat on his throne with Cordelia resting on his lap, he could only think about how in the hell he was going to find Severa and Morgan. They could be anywhere on the continent and tracking them down would be an arduous task.

“Sire, a squad of cultists has apprehended Severa. They are waiting for you at Breakneck Pass.” Validar emerged into the throne room and Grima’s eyes widened.

"Maybe my prayers have been answered.” Grima muttered to himself as he stood up. “Come on, Cordelia. We need to pick Severa up.”

Cordelia eagerly followed him out of the dull castle and drew her hood up as they left.

 

In a lone room of the empty Ylissean castle was a glass container filled with lava. The container was enchanted so that it would never break. However, the room had no lights on, seeing as it had not been checked on in a month.

Suddenly, the lava began to tremble like a souffle and turn a deep green. It began to shrink and evaporate until there was a medium-sized blob of sludge in the container.

A green, dripping hand emerged from the blob. On the back of the hand was a glowing mark that resembled a star.

“Cel… i… ca…” The blob murmured in a corrupted, deep voice.

* * *

So, pardon the incoming wall of text, but here's the point where I need to disclose some information.

If you've just stumbled upon this story and have no idea who I am or what I've wrote, first off, greetings. Hope you enjoyed the ride, and maybe you'd like some of my other stories. You don't need to read anything after this point, but you're more than welcome to.

If you've read this story because you're aware of who I am (I feel like I'm giving myself way too much credit just by typing that but moving on), or you've read any of my other previous works, then you should find something worthwhile in this message.

Simply put, I am going to be taking a break from writing until 2018 starts, as I've been writing non-stop since January of 2015 (I am writing this as of September 2017, for clarification) and I've hit the point where I've lost the drive to continue.

This also might have been influenced by the upcoming stories I had planned, and bear in mind I will get these written and uploaded, it's just I need a few months to do so.

In order of release, the stories are: 1. A prequel to  _Hisame's Beautiful Smile_ about how Severa and Cordelia managed to live in the ruined future of  _Awakening_. 2. A total rework of  _Hisame's Beautiful Smile_ so that I can update the story to the standards that I set for myself after I wrote  _The Mad Exalt_.

And 3, which is the real curveball here, is a sequel to  _Make Her Fall For You in a College Semester_  that will tie up the loose ends the original left and do the story justice, in my eyes.

So tl;dr: I will be taking a break until January of 2018, where I will attempt to get act I of a new story out on New Year's Eve. Until then, thank you greatly for the support.


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